


How Wrong You Were- Who Killed Markiplier One-Shot

by Bravo_48



Category: Who Killed Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Damian/Reader (If you squint), F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Murder Mystery, One Shot, Other, Who Killed Markiplier?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bravo_48/pseuds/Bravo_48
Summary: You expected to have a fun time, catch up with old friends, and relax. You never expected this.





	How Wrong You Were- Who Killed Markiplier One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Who Killed Markiplier One-Shot that I was very inspired to write when I finished the series. This is based mostly on Chapter 1, though I did add my own twist to the storyline. 
> 
> Also, I know the person we play as has no gender, but for this story, the character is a lady. This was mostly because of the ending of WKM- the part where you grab the staff- so I decided to just go with that.
> 
> I wrote this mostly for fun and I hope you all enjoy reading!

  There was a blur of motion, like rain dropping from the sky, before there was a loud _crash._

  ** _"Thud!”_**

  The impact from the “mass” slamming into the well-polished floor had you whipping your head around, despite the god-awful migraine still lingering in your skull. Your vision was a bit blurry from last night's poker night, and your mind wasn't quite in the right place at the moment, but what you saw had your head _reeling_.

  The _“mass”_ was a _man_ with ghostly pale skin that looked too unnatural in the bright sunlight streaming in from one of the many large windows. He had a trophy of a bruise decorating his face, the aubergine coloring clashed with the color of his skin due to the noticeable contrast. His dull, dark brown eyes bore nothing, not even a shine, to hint that he was still alive.

  And his clothes… not even the expensive velvet robe he was wearing could hide the blood stained on the thin garment. What made it worse though was that you _knew_ who this man was.

  The man that had tumbled onto the floor, bloody and pale, was _Mark._

   _Your dear friend Mark_ ; the one who always had a smile on his face, the one who had lived every day to the fullest, and the one who acted like he was the life of the party.

  Yet here he was, lying on the cold, hard ground with nothing but an empty face where there should have seen a _smile._

  You felt your hand cover your mouth with a silent gasp as you continued to stare at the sight before you. A cold feeling of dread washed over while you repeated _“No, no!”_ in your head like a broken record. Your hands began to shake violently and the shock from the discovery was overpowered by the grief inside of you that had _finally_ spilled out in a choked cry.

  You ran- or really, _stumbled_ \- your way to Mark’s side without a second thought. You didn’t care that your mind was still reeling from shock or the fact that your lingering hangover was causing you to tumble over your own two feet. You just needed to see- _to feel_ \- that he was still alive somehow.

  Overcome with despair, you placed your shaky hands on either side of his pale face, hoping to feel either warmth or a breath brush up to greet your skin. Yet as soon as you touched his check, you were met with nothing but the coolness of his skin. The sensation was enough to make you choked back a sob.

  “What’s going on? What the hell happened in here? Who’s screaming?” The voice startled you out of your daze, causing you to snap your head up at the new visitor in the room with tears streaming down your checks.

  It was Abe, a man you didn’t really know but had become acquainted with, as he was a friend of Mark’s. He looked at you with a panicked expression on his face before his eyes trailed down towards the body sprawled on the floor next to you.

  “Oh my God!” He said, his eyes widened when the recognition of _who_ was laying on the floor finally dawned on him. “There’s been a murder!”

  As if confirming his claims, a sudden flash of lightning blinded the room in a white daze as thunder clashed loudly in the distance.

  In time with the thunder, the pounding of footsteps rumbled through the halls as two people followed him into the small room. It was the butler and the not-so-sweet chef that you also met last night.

  It didn’t take a second at all for the butler- Benjamin, if you remembered correctly- to rush forward with a gasp and kneel at your side.

  “Oh my God! Master!” Benjamin exclaimed as he frantically pressed two fingers to Mark's neck, no doubt looking for a pulse. You knew he would never find one though.

  "Hey, you! Pretty lady!”

  A hand grabbed your arm with an iron-like grip and yanked you from your spot on the floor with a rough tug. Looking up in surprise, you noticed that you were face-to-face with the blazing eyes of Abe glaring back at you with suspicion clear in his fiery depths.

  “What the hell happened here?” He growled, his grip tightening around your arm slightly. “Who’s in charge here- _trick question_ \- that guy!” He hastily points to the body- to Mark- who lies just below your feet.

  “And he’s dead now, which makes me in charge so you better listen up good, Darlin’. Because in case you haven’t noticed there’s been a bit of a killin’-And you’re my prime suspect!” He says with a sharp glare. “S _o you better get to explaining the what, where, when, and why you happen to be here upon this man's death!”_

"Now hold on just a moment," Benjamin interjects as he rushed over to separate the two of you. “Sir, the body’s cold, he’s been dead a while so there’s no need to accuse this young woman of such a horrid crime.”

  Abe snapped his gaze over to the butler, his eyes narrowing slightly as he contemplated the fact. Finally, when his eyes glanced over at Mark’s body, he sighed heavily before looking back at you with a sorrowful expression.

  “I apologize, Miss. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, it’s just that- Mark. He-he’s _dead_ and you were here and-“ Abe took a shaky breath and used those few moments to compose himself. “I have to find out what happened. I need to solve his murder and I want to know _who_ killed him. Someone took him away from us and I want to find out why!”

  “And you!” Abe said as he pointed a finger at Benjamin. “Your observation proves a likely story- one that I’ll choose to believe completely. Alright, this lady’s off the hook- for now at least. And I’m not saying you had any part in this fiasco,” Abe continued when he saw the look you threw his way. “But I’m a detective and-“

  “Oh yeah! Prove you a real dick!” The chef, who had been quietly observing the scene, had finally spoken up as he shoved his way over to Abe and angrily confronted him. “I may be a sweet and kind man but even I don’t just waltz up in here and accuse people of murder!”

  Lightning and thunder flashed and collided outside the large mansion, as if the heavens above heard and disapproved of the use of such an ugly word.

  However, the storm outside did nothing to the stubborn detective in front of you as he turned his head to meet the challenge in the chef’s eyes. Without missing a beat, he whipped out a dark leather wallet and flipped it open. “Don’t believe me?” Abe said as he shoved a shiny metal into the chef’s face. “Here’s my badge, asshole!”

  The chef either didn’t care or didn’t want to show his surprise because he only took one glance at the silver badge before letting out an undignified huff.

  Abe, meanwhile, had moved his badge from the chef’s face and into yours, giving you a clear view of the words engraved into the metal and of something else. While the detective was proving his authority, a plastic covering had slipped past his fingers, revealing a slide show of dozens of men side by side. You may not be a detective like Abe, but even you could see that there were dozens of pictures of Abe and different men.  

  Abe made an inaudible sound as he saw his pictures unravel themselves and quickly folded them back into his wallet. “Those are my old partners.” He said wistfully, and after a beat, he continued. "Each one of them,” Abe pointed at his wallet. “ Died; each death more tragic than the last. A few of them died in ironically hilarious ways- which made it all the more tragic of course!”

  You and the chef both shared a glance at each other in worry.

  "But hey," Abe said as he caught your eye again, a manic look in his eyes. "I have an idea. Now, I know even I can't solve this murder on my own, but with a little help, it can be done. You look like you’re up to the task. You’re my new partner!”

  Your mouth gaped open in utter shock as you frantically shook your head. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant by “new partner” and what that would specifically mean for you. As much as you wanted to solve Mark’s murder, was this really the best option to take? The murder could be in this house- even worse, this very room- as you spoke.

  If you were to open up an investigation all on your own, that would not only be dangerous for you but also the murderer. True, the chances of catching the murderer were high if you were to start searching right away, but who knows what will happen if you cornered them. Heavens know what people could do in such desperate situations, dangerous or not.

  Nonetheless, despite your refusal at such a position, Abe laughed and shook his head. “That’s what all my old partners used to say.” The detective said. “That is, right before they died.”

  Now you were really not open to this, and by looking over at the chef, you could tell he felt the same way.

  “Alright, let’s get to work. Mark’s death isn’t going to solve itself.” Abe said with determination. “Hand me that fingerprinting kit behind you, _partner_.”

  Sighing at the hopelessness of the situation you unknowingly put yourself into, you turned around and grabbed the thick black case from the plush gray couch.

 

* * *

 

 

  As soon as Abe started his amateur investigation, you knew this was not just some accident, and by how tense and focused the butler was, you weren’t the only one who thought this. Even the chef was oddly quiet in his remarks when the detective was…. assessing the body. The atmosphere in the room was tense enough that a knife could cut a clean slice right through the middle.

  However, as Abe came to a conclusion on what caused Mark’s death, the tenseness in the room evaporated and was replaced with cold shock.

  It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you, since a fall down the numerous spiral stairs or the iron-railed baloneys couldn't have done enough damage to kill a man. Yet, you never thought something this horrible…

  You thought the dry blood on his back was the worst thing you could possibly find? How wrong you were.

  Mark was stabbed 37 times; he was also poisoned, beaten, strangled, drowned and then shot, all in that order. To say it was sickening was an understatement; this was an act of malice. The thought of someone having this much hate to do such a thing to someone like Mark was enough to make you a little green in the face.

  And the scary part? Abe confirmed that Mark had died around 1:30 a.m. last night, which was around the time you went to bed. Meaning if you had just stayed up one more second, you could have stopped this from ever happening. Mark would still be here and you wouldn’t have to solve his murder and you could all catch up on life, just as you had planned, and-

  But you couldn’t, you knew that. It would have been impossible to have helped your friend in the state you were in last night. And if someone as fit as Mark couldn’t fight off his attacker, how could you?

  “What the hell happened here?”

  All four of you looked up to find the Mayor, Damien, watching the scene with shock. When he noticed he had the attention of the whole room, the Mayor met each of your eyes with desperation, pleading one of you to answer his question.

  "I'm sorry, Mister Mayor. There's been a murder." Benjamin replied, speaking for all of you.

  The answer was one the Mayor was not expecting as he took a small step back. “A-A murder? Who?”

  From beside him, the chef answered. “It was Mark. He’s been killed.”

  Silence had filled the room then, and all of you watched as Damien shook his head in disbelief. “But why? Who would do this?”

  “That’s what me and my new partner are going to find out,” Abe said, motioning with his head towards you.

  “Um, excuse me, but shouldn’t we call the authorities for this matter? I feel like they would be more fit to solve this murder.” As soon as those words left Benjamin’s mouth, Abe shot him a glare, as if just advising him of something like that was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

  “Okay, I don’t even know where to begin to tell you all the reasons that would be stupid. Mark’s body may be cold but warm enough to tell us that he died last night. That would mean that whoever killed him is still in this house, and with this freaky storm, the chances are high. Getting the police involved would only scare the killer away, and I’m not taking the chance of letting that bastard get away!”

  “Now, if you have nothing else to add, I suggest you check up on the other guest. We don’t want mania to spread when people find out their host is dead.”

  Benjamin looked conflicted for a moment, clearly debating whether to believe Abe or not. In the end, he sighed in defeat and left on his merry way to check on the other guest. The chef trailed behind him, muttering something about death and cooking. You weren’t sure how those two words correlated with each other, nor did you wanted to find out.

  The Mayor was the only person still here, excluding you and the detective. He must be in shock- Lord knows you still were- with how rigid he was standing. His eyes never left Mark's body, and you were just about to ask if he was okay before Damien seemed to break out of whatever spell he was under.

  “I-I, um, I need to speak with the Colonel.” He said softly, backing out of the room with his eyes still glued to the body lying in the middle of the floor.

  “Alright partner,” Abe bellowed, drawing your attention towards him. “It’s time to get to work. Judging by the temperature of the body, I could not be surer that Mark was killed around 1:30 a.m. last night. So that begs the question, what were you doing at 1:30 a.m. last night?”

  A flash of blurred numbers and hazy lights filled your mind, and- what had those numbers said again?

  “Um, okay.” Abe drawled out when you told him. “I’m not going to ask how you remember that so vividly, with all the drinking we did last night, but it checks out.”

  “And since I’m the one conducting this investigation, I check out too. So, all that’s left is to find out where everyone was and what they were doing around that time.“ Abe continued. “Or at the very least, who saw Mark last.”

  Abe seemed to contemplate something before he glanced over at you, eyeing you with interest. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He stated. “You need to get out there, see if you can piece together the story of what happened last night. Think you can do that?”

 Could you? Could you help solve this murder? You weren’t a professional and you weren’t sure you would be comfortable interrogating people against their will, but staring at the white sheet covering the obvious body underneath, how could you deny helping out? You could help solve Mark’s murder. You owed it to him to at least try. So with newfound determination, you agreed to help with a sharp nod of your head.

  “Good, I knew you’d come around! Now,” Abe said as he shooed you away with his hand. “Get going. The sooner you get out there and find out more clues, we solve this murder, catch the bastard responsible, and send his ass to rot in a jail cell. As for me? I’ll stick around with the body and run more…test.”

  Ugh. Now you really didn’t want to stick around for that.

  Following the intrepid detective’s advice, you quickly exited the small entertainment room, leaving Abe to begin his…. evidence collecting.

 

* * *

 

  The first person on the top of your head to question is The Colonel- if you could ever find him that is.

  Mark’s house is big and grand, with many rooms and a maze of hallways that even a frequent visitor could get lost here. Though, just to note, you were definitely not a frequent guest in this house. Benjamin the butler, bless the man’s soul, gives you easy directions to get to the Colonel’s room and with a quick thank you, you follow his directions.

  The room was surprisingly easy to find, and you curse yourself for not checking this way earlier before you freeze at the sounds of yelling behind the door. You by no means wanted to be nosy, but the shouting match was getting intense, and fearing that a fight might break loose, you quietly tiptoed behind the door and peered in.

  “How can you be so flippant?” You hear Damien yell, the dark lighting of the room making his figure hard to see.

  “Flippant?” You hear a familiar voice argue far off into the room in a calm manner. “I’m taking this matter very seriously.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that horseshit!” Damien snaps, clenching his cane in apparent anger. “I know you hated him- _but gosh dammit_ \- he reached out to you!”

  “Oh, what do you want from me?” The Colonel sounded annoyed but you couldn’t quite tell since you had only met the man yesterday afternoon. Were they talking about Mark? If so, hadn't this man heard the terrible news? 

  “Wh- I want you to care!” Damien snaps, his tone heated and seething at the calmness of the Colonel.

  The Mayor’s anger does nothing to affect the Colonel, however, as the man lets out a snort. “Just because I’m not weeping like a child doesn’t mean I don’t care!” The Colonel says in obvious annoyance.

  Damien has a look of utter fury and disbelief on his face. “I can’t believe this, “ He states as he takes a couple of steps back. “You come find me when you pull your head out of your ass!”

  And with that, the Mayor turns towards the door and hurries out of the poorly lit room. You hoped that he wouldn't notice you as he left, thinking in haste to leave his argument that he would ignore your presence, but Damien spots you instantly and stops dead at the sight of you. You feel your face burn with embarrassment as you open your mouth to apologize for eavesdropping before you feel warm hand nudge you aside.

  “Excuse me.” Damien whispers and brushes past you, not giving you a second glance.

 You stare at him as he leaves, watching him in confusion for a moment before hesitantly taking a step into the dark room.

  The lighting of the room throws you off almost immediately as you enter, straining your eyes. It makes you wonder how anyone could stand to be in a room such as this. The room is fairly large in size with deep red velvet curtains decorating the sides of the walls. The man in question is sitting in a chair along the far back wall, the dark lighting of the room casting a shadow over his face. The tension from his fight with the mayor was barely visible if not for the obvious stiffness in his posture.

  You decide to make your presence known as you take a step towards him.

  “Damien,” He starts off when he notices he’s not alone. “I don’t- Oh.”

  The Colonel pauses when he sees you and he moves to stand up.

  “Ah, good to see you again!” He says with a greeting, a small grin plastered on his face. “You certainly were the rapscallion at last nights festivities.” His joyful tone was practically oozing from his voice, as if the death of a dear friend didn’t hang over him.

  You give him a smile in return, thankfully remembering _why_ you were here in the first place before he beats you to the punch. “Ah, but you're probably here to help the detective with his _investigation_ _of murder.”_ The thunder outside rumbles and the lightning that accompanies it leaves you momentarily blinded as it flashes the room in a harsh white light.

  However, the Colonel is unfazed by the storm and is beginning to tell a heavily exaggerated story of the murder of Mark and how it went. It was a story full of misinterpretations and questionable scenarios, but out of politeness, you listened anyway. When he was done, he shoos you out the door before you can even respond.

 

* * *

 

 

  The next person you questioned was the butler, though that wasn’t hard since he was the one that found you first. He was waiting for you by the door as soon as you were shooed out of the dark theater with clues of his own.

  Then he whisked you away on an adventure through the manor, telling you that there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t know about the establishment- especially the guests, as he was the one taking care of them. Near the finale of your grand tour, Benjamin led you down into the wine cellar, or as he calls it,  _“The Domain of Evil.”_ There was really nothing evil about it- well, if you can call cold and dark cellars evil, then maybe the name would make an exception. Nonetheless, there was nothing worth noting in the surprisingly clean old cellar. With the dusted racks and all. The only exciting thing down there was a broken wine bottle in the middle of the floor, and you were just about to question the reason for him bringing you here until Benjamin saw the wine bottle. After seeing that, the butler was _greatly_ displeased- so much so that you didn’t stay around to ask the distressed butler _anything_.

  You could still hear his cries even as you were climbing up the cellar stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

  The next person you find is the chef.

  He’s in the middle of chopping up what you can only call _meat_.

  As soon as you were out of the cellar and into the kitchen, are you greeting with a knife in your face and a creepy chef statue staring into your soul. The chef gives you a friendly hello in the form of shouting for entering his kitchen and then gives you a nasty glare when you tell him you’re helping the detective catch the killer of his employer.

  He sniffs at your explanation and then gives you one of his own. He tells you after a long day of preparing food and washing dishes, he had retired to bed at 1 a.m. As “sweet and innocent” the chef may be his testimony was one you didn’t trust, especially when he was waving his knife around so carelessly. He must have noticed the skeptical look on your face because he _oh-so-subtly_ informs you of leaving his _“little buddy”_ in charge of the kitchen.

  He gestures wildly to the statue, giving you the impression that he was beckoning you towards the statue. You give the chef a bewildered glance but step forward nonetheless as you awkwardly inspect the statue. You turn it over and look behind and what do you find? A camera. A built-in camera, with the lens angling so that it peeps rights through the statue's eye.

  You would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by the cleverness of such a simple contraption, but now’s not the time to admire the hidden camera. The chef was offering you a clue and you would have to be an idiot to pass this up.

  The recording from the mysterious camera is informational. From the beginning, nothing spectacular happens, and you think of looking up and questioning the chef, but then something catches your eye.

  It’s the detective and…was that Mark? What were they discussing? And why didn’t the detective think of informing everyone of this before he sent you off to find out who saw him last when it was clearly him!

 The new information is cultivating in your mind as you turn away from _“little buddy”_ and look for the chef. He’s gone, of course.

  

* * *

 

 

  You were frustrated- if not, slightly _seething_ \- that Abe could keep such crucial information from you. _He_ was the one who appointed you to help solve Mark’s murder, and yet it was him that didn’t think to tell all of you that he saw Mark last! The ignorance of hiding a vital detail was enough to have you storming down the halls. Oh, that intrepid detective was about to get a piece of your mind.

  However, just as headed to confront the detective, the smack of a cane caught your attention and you turned towards the sound. A cane? There was only one person you know who owned such a thing…

  You stepped outside and the confrontation you were preparing for dissolved from your mind as you looked at the scenery around you. The sky was blue and sunny today, which was odd considering the earlier thunder and lightning strikes, but it was best not to dwell on that. There were more pressing matter to attend to anyhow.

  As you admire the greenery decorating the balcony, you see a suit of black catch your eye. It seems your suspicion of the person out here was correct.

  The Mayor mustn’t have noticed he wasn’t alone anymore because of his expression one of surprise before he quickly shakes it off.

  “Look, “Damien explains with a sigh. “I’m sorry you saw that argument with the Colonel. I lost my temper and it wasn’t right. He must be in shock.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “ The Colonel is an eccentric, it’s his best quality and his worst. But he’s my friend, he always will be…. and so will Mark.” Damien's expression twists into something troubled as his grip on his cane tightens. 

  “I-I know I'm supposed to feel like the leader in all this, but I can't help but feel lost. I've known Mark for years, since we were kids, and he's just _gone_.” Damien’s face breaks into one of sorrow so heartbreaking, you can’t help but feel his pain. However, considering Mark was your friend too, it’s easier than you thought.

  You reach over and pat his arm in sympathy, giving the man a soft smile when he looks over at you with surprise. The troubled look he wears doesn’t go away, but it does ease a bit at your reassurance. Oh, how it saddened you to see Damien in such a way. The way his face twisted into a look of grief, how his eyes shined with forbidden tears- it was an alien look on your friends face. He was the major after all; he was the embodiment of strength.

  Your touch seemed to do the trick of cheering him up- if only just a bit- and reaches over at your hand on his arm and guides it to his own. His hand is warm and much larger than your smaller petite one. You give his hand a squeeze before reaching out with your other hand and patting it reassuringly.

  “I know it hurts, but nothing will be done until we found out what happened to our dear friend.”

  It feels like it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day, which was most likely true and Damien seems to notice too, but he gives you a small nod before reluctantly freeing his hand from yours.

  “Now I know why I chose you to help me protect this great city of ours," Damien says in an attempt to lighten the mood before he straightens up and meets your eye.

  “I don’t have any answers right now.” He begins after a few moments. “I just need to be alone…. to process all this.” His hand waves and gestures towards the big manor behind you and you can’t help but understand.

  “We’ll talk soon.” He says with finality as he turns his back and once again never spares you a glance as he is raptured into his thoughts.

  As you step away from the grieving man and head towards the manor, it occurs to you that you were supposed to question Damien about his whereabouts last night. Ah, well that could wait until later. You had a certain detective to confront either way.

 Unknowing to you, Damien’s eyes trail after you as you walk back into the house.

  

* * *

 

 

  Unbelievable.

  You can’t take your eyes off this man for _one second_ because something like this will happen.

  You glare at the white outlines taped to the floor, eye twitching in anger as you watch the detective explain himself.

  He begins by saying how he had stepped out of the room for a few minutes for some personal business- what it was you didn’t want to know. Then when Abe came back, Mark’s body was _gone_. You strain yourself to control the urge to snap at him. There was no way it took a _few minutes_ for someone to carry a body away, much less have the strength to do such a thing. It’s not like a body could get up and walk out; they were dead after all.

  By this time, the detective is still trying to explain himself when the two of you are joined by the butler and chef. It’s not long before an argument breaks loose on the matter, all three men shouting out the theory of _zombies_ of all things. And worse yet, the Colonel had even joined in! It was ludicrously to even consider such a thing, and it was then that you decided you can take no more and storm out of the room without a second thought.

  Your heels clatter against the hardwood floors as you storm your way through this maze of a house as if you were a man on a mission. Sadly though, you weren’t sure what you were planning on doing. Mark’s body was _gone_ , along with any clues that might have helped catch his killer. As you pace the halls, you pass through the kitchen and give a spiteful glare at the statue- camera? - Whatever it was! Oh joy, in your haste to leave the room in anger at the detective, you forgot to confront him about the footage from last night!

  Frustrated, you rush through the kitchen doors and almost barrel into Damien of all people, who quickly steps out of your way at the raging fire your eyes and flinches when you glare at him, as if he got too close to an inferno and couldn't handle the heat.

  You don’t spare the man more than one more moment of a glare before you’re down the hall and pacing in circles in the lobby.

  Oh, of all the terrible things that could happen, it had to be _this!_ How dare Abe take his eyes away from that body, knowing there was the possibility the killer was still in the house with them. It was his theory after all. So what if he needed to powder his nose for a moment, he could have easily asked that kind butler to watch his master's body!

  As you pace and fume over the man you call a detective, you barely notice another figure has joined you as they watch you from the sideline. You’re in the middle of a string of curses before a warm hand gently stops you from moving, and you whip your head around so fast that your hair almost gives you a whiplash.

  Pushing the hair out of your face, you look up to burn holes at whoever dares to disturb you when you freeze.

  It’s Damien, who turns out had followed you out of worry after he saw the expression on your face. He looked at you with such sorrow still present on his face that you paused in your heated gaze and take a deep sigh. You stared at the floor woefully and began to apologize for your behavior before he shushes you with a shake of his head.

  “You shouldn’t blame the detective for being so careless,” Damien says softly. “You should remember that Mark was his friend too, and he is in just as much grief as you and I."

  His words make sense in your ears, and you instantly feel regret for your anger towards Abe. The detective did look stressed, and there was no reason he shouldn’t be. He was investigating the murder of a friend after all.

  A hand cupping your face removes you from your thoughts as you look up into the dark eyes of Damien himself. He has a sad smile on his face, but the sight calms you nonetheless.

  “Don’t blame yourself either.” He says, his free hand grasping yours in comfort. “We’re all in shock after this morning. Well, most of us that is.” Damien’s expression flickers for a second too fast for you to catch, but you brush it off as he continues. “If we were to blame ourselves, none of us will be able to uncover just _who_ killed our friend. We may not have been there for him as he died, but we can be there for him now and find out what happened to him.”

  The words fill you with a sense of hope that you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be okay in that moment. Mark’s death would be solved and their dear friend himself would be at peace knowing his killer was caught.

  Damien said everything was going to be okay.

  How wrong he was.

 

 


End file.
